


Repatriation

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-10-11
Updated: 1999-10-11
Packaged: 2018-11-10 22:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	Repatriation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: Repatriation
    Author: necessary angel
    Pairing: BF/RK
    Rating: PG for m/m slashy implications and maybe the odd bad word Spoilers:
    Lots and lots for Asylum
    Disclaimer: Alliance owns them - in this reality anyway.
    Feedback: Comments to
    Notes: This fragment picks up just after the end of Asylum. Ray has to
    adjust to life back in America.
    
    Thanks as always to Megan for knocking this into shape and for the encouragement.
    
    Repatriation
    
    Cahill and his goons have been here, turned the place over looking for
    me, I suppose. They didn't treat the place that bad; it's far from trashed,
    and I've seen plenty of places that looked worse after cops have been
    through 'em. Shit, this place has looked far worse just from me living
    here. Fraser thinks I'm a slob; he doesn't say it, way too polite for
    that, but I know he does. He shoulda seen me just after Stella and I
    split. But then, Fraze travels light, very light, ready to pick up and
    head back North the first chance he gets. Or maybe he's just not the
    world's biggest pack rat, Kowalski. Whatever; he just doesn't have enough
    stuff to have a shot at the cluttered look.
    
    The apartment's beginning to warm up now. I could probably risk shedding
    my coat. I stay where I am, though, sitting on the couch looking at my
    stuff. It doesn't look real, any of it. I keep expecting gleaming wood
    and much more space.  I shake my head; the time in the wide-open spaces
    of Canada has really done something to my already-damaged self. Probably
    the curling; that or Turnbull, Canada's secret weapon..
    
    Okay, Kowalski, get it together here.
    
    It's better when I'm up and moving, the smell of coffee drifting from
    the kitchen. Some music, and maybe I'll start to feel like I actually
    live here. I punch the play button on the CD player; whatever is in there
    already will do. The sneaky, insistent bass of The KLF twists out of
    the speakers, and the rest of the knots in my neck undo at the sound.
    
    Without thinking, I'm straightening the mess IA left behind. For the
    first time in what seems like a lifetime I'm not thinking, not planning,
    not trying to remember. I'm in the flow of it, in that place I get to
    when I'm dancing, nothing in the world but music and the flex and pull
    of my body moving.  
    
    It doesn't take long to return my place to something that looks close
    enough to normal, pretty much like my life really. Fraser had taken what,
    twenty minutes to pull the rabbit out of his Stetson and reel Cahill
    in? He'd knocked the sneaky little backstabbing bastard off balance the
    second Cahill'd knocked on the Consulate door with cameras, enough firepower
    to take out Chicago, and his precious extradition papers. Cahill should
    have been top dog, but Fraser was in charge the whole way. Smooth and
    confident and with the simplest of plans, he'd turned the whole sorry
    mess around and given me back my life.  Well, another man's life, but
    it's all the same at the moment. Watching Fraser working it, busting
    his ass to save my skinny neck had been.the RCMP doesn't know what they
    gave up when they exiled him down here in the snowy south.
    
    Everything back to normal. True, I'm stretched out on my couch sipping
    coffee at three something in the afternoon, which is far from normal,
    but I still have my shield, and we got the bad guys again. It should
    all be business as usual, but nothing's really been normal since I took
    on this assignment. well, since I met a certain uptight and way too good-looking
    Mountie. 
    
    And Benton Fraser has done it again; squeezed in under the barbed wire
    and bricks I'd built to keep this partnership treading the line. But
    for all his by-the- book exterior, Fraser doesn't really play by the
    rules; well, he does.by his own rules.. I rub one hand over my face;
    my thoughts have been running in this circle ever since that conversation
    in the hallway at the Consulate. Something, everything, had cracked in
    those few minutes and there is no way the pieces are gonna fit back together
    again.  
    
    And I'm far from sure that I'd want them to. No, I'm sure I don't want
    them to; the question is what do I do with them. Fraser was so far under
    my skin already that I was kinda dazed to find that there was room for
    him to tunnel in further. As usual, if there's something ya think he
    can't do, he manages it. He blasted all the pieces way up into the air
    and all I can do is ride out the aftershocks. Far more warmed by that
    decision, and the memory of Fraser's eyes as he asked me to trust him,
    than by the coffee, I head for the luxury of a shower in my own bathroom.
    
    


End file.
